


head down, hood up

by bloodflood



Category: RWBY
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Loss, Love, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-10
Updated: 2017-12-10
Packaged: 2019-02-13 00:03:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12971322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodflood/pseuds/bloodflood
Summary: Following the events of Volume 5Ruby thinks about how the words “love” and “loss” only have two different letters.She thinks about what that means.





	head down, hood up

_“Here is what they do not tell you about Death: when Death says, ‘You are born for this,’ she clearly means ‘ You will die for this.” - R.M._  
…  
She spends a lot of time thinking about loss.  
Loss is every breath she takes in, breathes out.  
Loss is the hard set of Jaune’s jawline, the flat blue of his eyes.  
Loss is the centimeters of space between the hands of Nora and Ren.  
Ruby thinks about a cocky smile, and then thinks of copper hair. This, too, is loss.  
Breathe in, breathe out  
…  
She compares Weiss’s cold hands with bitten nails to Yang’s warm ones.  
When she does, she shakes.  
…  
Jaune’s thumbing the pattern of his shield, his shoulders are taut. They speak of danger, of death.

He catches Ruby staring. “I wish I was dead.” Tears well in his eyes, and he looks away ashamed, as though he felt weak.

Ruby’s head hurts, the space behind her eyes ache. She thinks of Pyrrha.

_“Do you believe in destiny?”_

“You’re not weak, Jaune.” Her voice is a whisper. Nora stirs in her sleeping bag, and Ren shifts in a way that makes Ruby think he’s not actually asleep.

“Do you know the last thing she said to me?” He asks but doesn’t wait for a response. “She said, “I’m sorry,” and then she ran right into death’s arms.”

“I’m sorry.” Ruby says, but she wants to say, _“I’m sorry I wasn’t fast enough.” “I’m sorry I’m not the one dead.”_

Jaune rolls over, gets into his sleeping bag.

Ruby feels his shoulders shaking throughout the night.  
…

Ruby groans as Nora places a bandage against her ribs.

“That was a big Beowolf, huh?”

“Yeah,” Ruby grits through her teeth. She watches her blood dribble onto the snow. She thinks she’s made for this, made for pain.

…

Qrow smells like a bar, and the bags under his eyes are only highlighted from the campfire.

Ruby wonders where he hides the flask.

“He really doesn’t like me, huh?” Qrow slurs, tilting his head to an angry Jaune.

“He’s hurt,” Ruby disagrees with a shake of her head. “He doesn’t want to blame himself anymore for her death.”

He nods. “And… how are you?”

Her jaw clenches shut. She wants to say _“I lost my entire team in the course of a few hours.” “I watched Pyrrha and Penny die.” “I wish Weiss was here. I wish they were all here.”_ Instead she says, “my head hurts. It’s been hurting for weeks, months.”

He nods, brings the flask to his lips and drinks.

…

The stench of decay clogs her throat, but she swipes at it again, and again, and again. Sweat drips down her face.

She aches. Her ribs, her arms, her back, and her eyes, oh god her eyes hurt.

Nora takes a whack with her hammer, and Jaune yells, “Keep going in circles!” She barely processes the information, the world around her is blurry.

She hears a “Ren! Knock it off!” To her left. Her head hurts.

Made for this. Made for pain, She thinks.

“Ren,” she calls, waits a beat. “Jaune and I can take care of the arms.” She thinks he nods, hopes he does.

It’s muscle memory after this. _“Right foot forward. No, Ruby, that’s too forward.”_ She recalls a voice tell her, cold hands adjusting the positioning of her arms. The scent of chilled vanilla filling her nose. _“You’ll wear your arms out quicker by holding them up that high. Keep your shoulders loose. Crescent Rose isn’t exactly light.”_

 _Jump, recoil, left, left, right, keep your eye on the target._ The tips of the scythe pin the arm of the Nuckelavee to the ground. The stench of death replaces that of Weiss and it invades her nostrils, forcing her to gag.

“For myself,” Ren mutters, and that’s the end.

Ruby is scared it’ll never end.

…

“Uncle Qrow?”

“Yeah?”

“What does love feel like?”

“You’ll know it when you feel it, kid.”

Ruby rolls over in bed. The air in Mistral feels different - it makes it harder to sleep.

“Who,” Qrow shifts around in bed. Ruby imagines he’s sitting up, eyes boring red into her back. “Who are you thinkin’ about loving?”

She keeps her mouth shut, thinks about how his mouth curls into a sneer whenever the Schnee family is mentioned.

She laughs breathlessly. “Nobody, Uncle. I was just thinking about Dad and Mom.”

There’s a stillness to him that makes her think he knows.

“Alright, kid. You’re too young anyway.”

However, Qrow isn’t the one to push for details.

“You weren’t much older than me when you started dating girls!” Ruby yells, slightly offended that he may still think of her as a kid. I’m not. Not when I’ve seen so much death. Not when I’ve been the bringer of so much death.

His chuckles bring the end of that conversation.

…

Ruby loves already.

She loves the man who sells flowers on the corner of the street, and she loves the dog she passes in the market, and she loves the pianist playing the most haunted melody in the middle of a happy day.

But she thinks of cold hands, pale blue eyes, and wonders how that kind of love is supposed to fit together.

…

She stares at the anxious tapping of Lionheart’s hands, refusing to acknowledge the tightening in her eyes.

The angry words of Qrow blur around her, murmurs of a relic make the tapping increase. She hears his nails click against the worn wood.

She doesn’t hear Qrow’s gritted words but she hears Penny’s name. Hears how Lionheart described her as being ripped apart. Ruby winces, breathes in loss. She thinks of copper hair, thinks of bright green eyes. Thinks of warm touches and soft smiles and then thinks of a different type of red hair, a different type of green eyes. Ruby brings her eyes to the fist of Jaune, knows his mind is there, too.

Qrow’s voice starts to thunder and she knows she has to step in. Her uncle has itchy fingers when it comes to his weapon.

“It’s bad, things are bad.” It sounds like an understatement to her. Blood blacks her vision when she speaks, anguish drips off of her hands when she gestures. Things are bad. Out of the corner of her eye she sees Qrow grab his flask.

“But we can do it.” It sounds like the biggest lie she’s ever told.

…

Professor Lionheart is tapping his fingers when Ruby shuts the door on her way out.

She’s worried it’ll never end.

…

It’s never going to end.

A boy is sitting on the couch now, claiming that he is Ozpin, claiming that he is also Oscar. His eyes are shifty green and freckles splatter nose and he is just a kid and he is out of his mind scared.

 _He’s not made for this_ , Ruby thinks as she watches him shift around, avoiding the gaze of the others.

It’s only after the voice of Ozpin shines through that she starts to pay attention.

He goes on to explain how he’s been cursed to walk the face of the earth for hundreds of years. His eyes reflect that pain.

“I’m sorry.” His voice is somber, mouth forming in a way that makes her think of Blake. “I’ve lied to you all.”

“Honestly.” It’s Nora that speaks. “This isn’t nearly as crazy as the shit we’ve been dealing with for the past couple of months. I mean we’re talking some _crazy_ shit like Beowulf and Nevermore fusions. Like, are you kidding me? A flying Beowulf in the middle of buttfuck nowhere!”

“Thank you for that, Nora.” Ren sighs and gives her a look that tells her to be quiet.

“Well! It’s true!” She frowns and refocuses her attention on Ozpin.

He sighs again and casts a tortured look towards the ground. “I still am sorry about deceiving you all. It was never my intention for any of this to happen. However, there is another more pressing issue we need to focus on. Professor Lionheart.”

“I don’t trust him any longer.” Qrow slurs out. Ruby finds herself nodding, eyes throbbing.

“Yes, we can’t afford to rule out any possibilities. We will need to keep a close eye on him.”

…

She thinks about how the words “love” and “loss” only have two different letters.

She thinks about what that means.


End file.
